You'll spread your white wings on the sea
And fly and follow after me—
Go-dé tu Mavourneen slân!"
Mother: I wonder you to be going into the rath
the way you do, Conan. It is a very haunted place.
Conan: Don't be bothering me. I have my
reason for that.
Mother: I often heard there is many a one lost
his wits in it.
Conan: It's likely they hadn't much to lose.
Without the education anyone is no good.
Mother: Ah, indeed you were always a tip-top
scholar. I didn't ever know how good you were
till I had my memory lost.
Conan: Indeed, it is a strange thing any wits
at all to be found in this family.
Mother: Ah, sure we are as is allotted to us at
the time God made the world.